A Sprig of Desperation
by jinkichoo
Summary: A young girl has an existential crisis and seeks help from a charming psychologist. Will their interactions prove beneficial for either party? I AM CURRENTLY UNDERGOING PSYCHIATRIC CARE AT AN INPATIENTS UNIT AND CANNOT FINISH THE STORY UNTIL MY RELEASE. MY APOLOGIES, WATCH THIS SPACE!
1. Chapter 1

In an amalgam town in Lithuania - not far from the border of Belarus - an audacious young nymphomaniac by the name of Mila Alkaev traipsed clumsily home from school. She was born to wealthy parents, with a strong dose of self-entitlement. A family historically renowned for their hard work and contributions to their community were unsurprisingly let down by their lacklustre heir to the inheritance.

Mila was the kind of young woman who never pulled her punches and it was this quality that made her so attractive to the tame crowds she grew up beside. Mila knew what she wanted, and didn't have to work hard to get it. Mahogany hair tumbled way past her shoulders and framed her striking, porcelain face. Her eyes were jade and opaque and didn't give anything away, which made it even more difficult to distract oneself from her gaze; the impression was that if looked upon for long enough, those pools of green would perhaps utter nineteen years' worth of secrets. Despite her redeeming qualities, Mila's interests stretched from boys to soap operas and absolutely no further.

* * *

Upon arriving home, she was keen to stretch out and relax on the sofa, but half way into the living room, a note caught Mila's peripherals and she bashfully twirled back into the hallway, knowing that her parents were away on business.

_Our Dearest Mimi,  
We have been called away on business rather urgently, but before we left we received a telephone call from the principal of your school. This promiscuity has __**got to stop. **__You're bringing shame upon your Father and I, but more importantly yourself. We've arranged an appointment with the school's Educational Psychologist for lack of a better idea. Note that we will be checking up on whether or not you attended the appointment. Please, Mila, try to help yourself.  
All our love, Mama and Father._

'Fucking typical.' She hissed. So often was it that her parents went away on business and left her instructions on how to better herself, she was deliberating over whether to collect all of the money in the house, and just run away from it all. Instead, Mila was feeling courageous.

* * *

'Yes, I'm so terribly sorry for the inconvenience,' she hummed, 'thank you ever so much. Good bye.'It had worked. She'd managed to call the Ed Psych and convince her that she was Mrs. Alkaev, cancelling the session due to a conflict in schedules. Finally, Mila could kick off her shoes and slouch lazily over the sofa for the rest of the evening.

* * *

3:36AM. Mila had woken with a start. Never before had she been so plagued by guilt - it was consuming her and over what, cancelling an appointment? Maybe this was her turning point. She walked over to her bedroom window and peered out into the night, thinking of all of the school professors she had bribed or provoked with her delicate, poisonous charm. How many hearts had she broken? She hadn't caused any controversies, thank god. Her scandals were very much private, her own source of pleasure and until now all of the men she had seduced were mere pawns. Now, her mind had personified them. They felt. They sweated, cried, shook, panicked and moaned and all because they were emotionally involved too. Sex wasn't just Mila – it was the coming together of two people. She knew she had to seek help.

* * *

A callous had formed on her index finger from furiously flicking through the phone directory. After what seemed like hours, Mila came upon a psychiatrist by the name of Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Was the name familiar? She was unsure, but felt compelled to dial the given phone number. Twice and thrice the dial tone echoed in the space between Mila's ears.

'Fancy being a Doctor and not having a secretary. Not even an answering machine.'  
Mila had been encouraged by the onset of panic she experienced the night before and was determined to seek help. Why she didn't try another number for a different surgery, she didn't know. It was too late, anyway, she was already past the front door and ready to chase up Dr. Lecter.

Bedazzled teenaged boys and proper looking ladies all watched Mila as she walked down the street, each for their own reason. The eyes didn't feel good on her any more. She didn't want to feel judged or even adored, and it finally sank in for her what others meant when they said someone's eyes were burning into them. Paying too much attention to her feelings got her pulse racing and the fresh-faced young girl came over quite flushed. Her brashness was never dampened, however, and she started for the nearest house to request a glass of water. As luck would have it, she had reached the residence of Dr. Lecter sooner than she had estimated, and almost immediately after hurriedly rapping the brass knocker, an elegant, well-kept man appeared before her.

'Miss Alkaev, I believe.' He said, and nodded towards a very flustered Mila.  
'Well…Well yes, but how do you know my name?'  
'Don't be taken aback, I am no magician. I simply have caller identification and a knowledge of the so-called business gurus who run this estate. I am right in assuming you are Miss, and not Mrs. Alkaev?' Mila nodded and double checked the number on the door.  
'Dr. Lecter, may I come in and have a glass of water?' Suddenly Mila had found her scarcely used manners. The Doctor was endearing and for the first time in a long time, she had sensed a good first impression was in order. He smiled at her.  
'You may, but I must insist that in return for my hospitality, you will share something with me.' Mila looked on as he spoke.  
'I'm referring to, of course, your phone call. I wouldn't quite call your turning up on my doorstep a surprise, but I was not readily expecting you either. Please do come in.'

* * *

His voice was captivating, his thick, Germanic accent was prominent, yet his English was impeccable. He didn't comply to stereotypical handsomeness, yet she didn't dare to maintain eye contact for long lest she should be turned on by his enigmatic good looks. As opposed to being calmed by him, Mila found Dr. Lecter exciting and the sensible thing to do would have been to apologise, about turn and promptly leave. She didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor invited Mila in and she perched on an ivory coloured chaise lounge, picked out by his wife, no doubt; this simply wasn't a man's taste. She raised her voice and called into the kitchen where he was pouring her water.  
'Dr. Lecter,' She cleared her throat 'your wife has exquisite taste in furniture.'  
'Thank you Miss Alkaev, though I do not have a wife. I choose all of the furniture for my home and reupholster it to suit my palate.' He handed her the glass. Dr. Lecter's choice of phrase was questionable but only Mila's subconscious picked up on that. Her mind was too busy wandering the well-trodden path of seduction and how to apply it to this circumstance. That, however, abruptly halted as Mila felt Dr. Lecter observing her as she took a sip of the ice cold water. Understandably a girl of her Kite-esque nature believed him to be taking note of her satisfaction. Understandably a man of his private, second profession –one very few people had come to discover – he was closely watching her neck, imagining her trachea gently pulsing between sips. Lecter found himself becoming too engaged and resumed focus in the present moment. This one was not for consumption. Lean, she may have been, but the inherent desire he usually felt for making a meal was lacking.

* * *

'Please, take a seat,' He hummed restfully. 'And be so good as to explain why you have presented yourself to me with such urgency.' Mila looked up at the artisanal ceiling of his office and pursed her lips.  
'You know? I'm not even sure any more.'  
'You insinuate that there was a point where you were sure, Miss Alkaev.'  
'Call me Mila,' she purred. 'And yes, maybe there was.' Hannibal Lecter paid attention to everything: Every vocal inflection, each blink of an eye, people's nervous habits, and their not-so-nervous habits. He did, however, practise the art of ignorance, and chose to dismiss the youngster's evident attraction to him.  
'Yes, doctor, but I'm not so sure that it's what I want to discuss with you anymore.'  
'Oh no?.' He urged her to continue.  
'My matter of urgency is one I feel you personally could help me with. We've only just met, but my intuition tells me that you're the man for the job. I'm lonely, Doctor Lecter, is there anything you can do for me?'  
'I beg your pardon, Miss Alkaev, but psychologists aren't known for their ability to ease the sense of loneliness.' His voice was monotonous and he didn't once avert eye contact.  
'I told you, you can call me Mila.'  
'And I have chosen not to.' Despite his lack of willing to ease up, Mila could see herself making love to this man. It was just a matter of time.

* * *

Doctor Lecter asked Mila for a brief medical history and information on her upbringing; All standard procedure, he assured her, and she was more than happy to oblige. No less than forty-five minutes had passed before Mila felt she had covered everything, and it had been long since the doctor had taken notes, or pressed her to continue. She had made no progression as far as intimacy was concerned, but still her focus was on Hannibal. She wondered whether there would come a time when he allowed her to use his first name.  
'Thank you for opening up to me today, Miss Alkaev. I look forward to seeing you a week today. As I said previously, the direct debit payments won't be necessary, I don't feel we will need many more sessions before we both have what we want.' As they walked to the door, Mila smiled to herself. That sounded more like what she was used to.  
'If you insist, doctor. I'll see you next week.'

* * *

All week long had been torture. Mila had paid extra attention to her studies, purchased Sudoku books, taken up crocheting; anything to ease her mind off how every hour of every day was seemingly being dragged out. None of it was any use. Lecter's silky voice echoed through her mind and sent quivers through the fibres of her being. Each moment spent on distractions led to a thousand more fantasising. It wasn't ordinarily like this. College boys woke up each morning with smiles plastered across their faces, reminiscing about lewd dreams from the night before. They obsessed over her, not the other way round. Infatuation wasn't something Mila was familiar with and it left her ill at ease. She wasn't simply pursuing a night of pleasure, she longed to wake up to Hannibal in the morning, kissing her passionately, making her breakfast. Yearningly she imagined pandering to his every need; each benign desire would bring her crashing to her knees. With any luck, her natural charms had persuaded the older man and he would be lusting after Mila in return, but she had no way of knowing.

* * *

Presenting herself subtly was tormenting Mila. The day of her appointment came around so suddenly in comparison to the drag of each day prior and she felt overdressed in the taxi on the way to Doctor Lecter's house. Two hours before the session had seemed like the right time to get ready – she couldn't have waited any longer. Mila opted to avoid her push-up bras, if the session were going to end the way she wanted it to, Doctor Lecter would be analysing every inch of her body, and she wanted him to be under absolutely no illusion. The underwear she settled with was lacy, an expensive brand she hoped the Doctor would appreciate. Dressing to impress was an altogether new experience - hoping someone would be impressed rather than assuming they would be required a lot of thought and effort. Mila applied her makeup minimally with the exception of her eyes which she delicately dusted with a smoky bronze, accentuating her natural beauty. The day before she had been practising an alluring gaze in front of the mirror and was confident that she could dig her claws into the Doctor. Her clothing choices were somewhat rushed, resulting in a more formal appearance than she originally intended to exhibition. She sported a lustrous, navy dress that was appropriate for evening events, but for all the psychologist knew, she could have been attending one immediately after their session. In the back of her mind Mila had been speculating, 'Who knows, maybe Doctor Lecter will jump the gun and invite me to dinner?' She thought to herself, and grinned.

The taxi pulled up before Doctor Lector's home-cum-office and after a final ruffle of her thick black curls, she paid the driver and approached the door.

* * *

When Hannibal opened the door, he was stunned to see his young client like a peacock displaying her plumage, perched on his doorstep showily, a slightly artful grin painted onto her lips.  
'How pleasant to see you again. Do come in,_ Mila_.'


End file.
